The Strength of the Awakened
As I stand in front of the mirror, my body is a testament to the tireless work I've put in. The soft contours of my past life have given way to sharp, defined muscles that ripple beneath my skin with every movement. I can't help but feel a surge of pride at the progress I've made, the countless hours of dedication etched into every inch of my being.
But it's not just about the physical changes. There's a newfound sense of purpose that courses through my veins, a clarity that has been missing for far too long. I've made up my mind—I'm joining the military. The decision wasn't an easy one, but the thought of exploring the unknown, of becoming one of the pioneers in this new era, excites me. The risks are high, and the dangers are real, but the promise of a substantial salary and the chance to be at the forefront of this uncharted territory, to be more than just another face in the crowd, outweighs any fears I might have.
My experiences at the Korzuv facility have only reinforced my natural inclination towards caution. I must navigate the delicate balance between showcasing my abilities for my own advancement and protecting myself from becoming a mere tool for others' agendas. The line between leveraging my newfound capabilities and safeguarding my autonomy is one I'll have to tread carefully, especially in the structured and often unforgiving environment of the military.
With my decision to join the military, I'm stepping into a world where the term "Awakened" has taken on a new meaning, now specifically referring to those who've successfully formed Mana Cores or developed Meridians. This distinction sets us apart from the broader population that can merely see the Mana specks, and it's a shift that carries significant weight. It's a new reality that I'm still wrapping my head around, but I can't afford to get lost in the grandeur of it all.
Instead, I find myself laser-focused on the practical aspects of my new path. How will my connection to Mana give me an edge in the military? How might it help me navigate the dangers that lie beyond those gates? It's not about being a hero or changing the world; it's about finding my place in all of this, about using what I've learned to make a difference, however small it might be. As I stand on the threshold of this new life, I'm reminded of the need for balance—between caution and ambition, between embracing the extraordinary while staying grounded in the everyday. It's a balance I intend to maintain as I step into a future that's as uncertain as it is full of potential.
The concept of condensing Mana Cores has been on my mind since the first whispers of its potential surfaced on social media. I've watched as brave souls took the leap, their triumphs and tribulations broadcasted for the world to see. The reported fatality rate is astonishingly low, but I can't shake the feeling that we're only scratching the surface of the true risks involved. I've decided to wait for an official announcement from The Global Alliance before attempting such a feat. In the back of my mind, though, I know that the military will likely be the place where I'll face this challenge head-on.
The reports from those who have successfully compressed their Mana Cores are nothing short of miraculous. They speak of heightened senses, of a world that's suddenly more vivid and alive than ever before. Their strength has grown exponentially, and their connection to Mana has deepened in ways that were previously unimaginable. It's a tantalizing glimpse into what the future may hold for me.
Yet, not everyone shares this sense of wonder. There are those who complain about the constant presence of Mana, the white specks that have become an inescapable part of their daily lives. Companies are scrambling to develop solutions—special glasses, equipment, medication—to counteract these sightings. It's a strange reversal of fortune, where the very thing that grants some of us power and purpose is seen as a nuisance by others.
The Awakened have offered their advice, urging those who are troubled by the Mana specks to take the leap and form their own Mana Cores. But fear is a powerful deterrent, and the risk of death is too high for many to consider. It's a sobering reminder of the fine line we walk between evolution and extinction.
As the number of Awakened individuals grows, so does the public safety crisis. The government in Alstropia has taken drastic measures, relaxing the laws surrounding gun ownership to allow citizens to defend themselves against the growing threat of rogue Awakened. I approached my mother with the idea of obtaining a gun for our protection, but she was adamantly against it. Emily, however, understood the necessity and agreed to acquire one for us. The relief in my mother's eyes was palpable, even as she grappled with the harsh reality of the world we now live in.
With my body honed to a peak of physical perfection and my decision made, I set out for the military recruitment center, driven more by personal ambition and the promise of a substantial salary than by any sense of duty. The recruitment center was bustling with a diverse crowd of hopefuls, each of us drawn by the lucrative financial prospects and the allure of becoming something more. The opportunity to leverage my abilities as an Awakened for personal advancement was too good to pass up, and the potential for exploration and adventure through the gates added an extra layer of intrigue.
The line for the Awakened was significantly shorter than those for the un-Awakened or the mere observers of Mana. As I waited for my turn, I observed the others around me. We were a collection of individuals, each with our own reasons for stepping forward, but united by the recognition of our newfound value in a world transformed by Mana. The air was thick with anticipation, and despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, there was an undercurrent of excitement that united us all. The promise of high salaries and the chance to be part of something groundbreaking were powerful motivators, and as I stood there, I felt a sense of belonging among these fellow pioneers of a new era.
When my turn finally came, I stepped forward with a steady heart and a clear mind. The time had come to put my abilities to the test and to prove that I was ready to embrace the path that lay before me. The military was more than just a job—it was a calling, and I was ready to answer it with everything I had.
I step up to the reception desk, my heart pounding with anticipation. The clerk behind the counter, a stern-faced woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, looks me over with a practiced eye. "Name?" she asks, her fingers poised over a keyboard.
"Ryan Carter," I reply, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. There's a momentary pause as my name is entered into the system, a brief lull in which the weight of my decision settles firmly on my shoulders. The clerk's question cuts through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.
"You're here for the Awakened recruitment, correct?" she inquires, her gaze meeting mine, searching for a flicker of doubt or hesitation.
"Yes, ma'am," I answer, a sense of purpose straightening my posture. The title of respect slips out effortlessly, a remnant of habit from a life that now feels like a distant memory.
She hands me a clipboard with a stack of forms attached. "Fill these out. Once you're done, they'll call you in for the physical tests. You'll need to bench press at least 100 kilograms, sprint 100 meters in under 11 seconds, and jog 5 kilometers in under 25 minutes."
I take the forms, scanning the lines quickly. The bench press gives me pause—I've been doing bodyweight dips, not actual bench pressing. The sprints and jog should be manageable, but that benchmark is a wildcard. I nod, thanking the clerk before I move to a nearby chair to fill out the paperwork. The room is filled with the sound of hushed conversations and the occasional clatter of a dropped pen or shuffled chair. The air is tinged with a mix of anticipation and anxiety, a palpable tension that seems to bind all of us hopefuls together.
After completing the forms, I head to the testing area, a large, open space with various stations set up for different physical tests. The walls are adorned with motivational posters and the flags of Alstropia and the Global Alliance, their colors bright against the sterile white of the room. A burly man in standard military uniform waits for me, his muscular frame imposing next to the bench press behind him. His face is weathered, with deep lines that speak of years spent in the rigors of military service.
"Carter?" he barks, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"Yes, sir," I respond, stepping forward with a firm resolve. His eyes assess me quickly, the weight of his judgment momentarily unnerving. The air is thick with the sounds of the recruitment center: the clatter of free weights, the steady pounding of feet on treadmills, and the occasional grunt of exertion.
"We'll start with the easy stuff—measure your height and weight," he says, gesturing to the equipment in the corner.
I step onto the scale first, watching as the digital display settles on 80 kilograms. I can't help but raise an eyebrow. I've lost 5 kilograms since I started training, but my muscles feel more dense, stronger. The numbers don't lie, though; the transformation I've undergone isn't reflected in the weight recorded by the machine. Next, I stand against the height measuring tool—a metal rod with a sliding piece at the top. I've seen doctors use it before. The sliding piece confirms my height at 1.82 meters. No change there, despite the Mana coursing through my veins. A part of me had harbored a silent, almost foolish hope that the Mana Core within me might have somehow altered my physical dimensions, granting me a height that surpassed my previous measurements. But as the sliding piece locks back into place with a soft click, I'm reminded that some things remain constant, even in a world that's rapidly changing.
The burly man jots down my measurements and then leads me to the bench press station. "You look like you've got some decent muscle on you, but remember, technique is just as important as raw strength," he advises, watching as I lay back on the bench.
I rack the bar, ensuring that the 20-kilogram weights on each side are securely in place. I recall the standard bar weight is another 20 kilograms, making the total a solid 60 kilograms for my warm-up. Before I begin, I take a moment to focus my Mana absorption, directing the energy specifically to my chest and triceps. It's a technique I stumbled upon during my recovery sessions; I noticed an unexpected surge of energy that seemed to enhance my physical capabilities. I've since learned to channel Mana into targeted muscle groups, much like the Awakened on social media who share their experiences of increased power and endurance. As I position myself under the bar, I can feel the Mana-infused strength primed and ready in my upper body.
"Sir, is it allowed to use Mana during these tests?" I ask, sitting up and meeting his gaze.
He nods, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "We're evaluating your full potential, so yes, you can use Mana. Just make sure you're not harming yourself in the process."
With his approval, I close my eyes once more, deepening my focus on the Mana already suffusing my muscles. The energy intensifies, and I can feel my body humming with a heightened level of strength. Opening my eyes, I'm poised to test my limits, eager to see how the Mana will amplify my performance on the bench press.
With his approval, I proceed with the warm-up, pressing the 60-kilogram bar with a controlled ease that's amplified by the Mana flowing through me. The energy intensifies with each rep, and I can feel my body humming with a heightened level of strength. After completing the set, I add two additional 20-kilogram plates onto the bar, bringing the total to 100 kilograms.
The added weight is substantial, but with the Mana coursing through my muscles, it feels manageable, almost light. I position myself on the bench once again, my back flat against the padding, and reach up to unrack the bar. As I lower it to my chest, I can feel the Mana-enhanced strength in my arms and chest engaging, ready to push back against the load. With a deep breath, I drive the bar upward, the movement fluid and controlled. The weight that once challenged me now seems to yield to my enhanced might. After completing the rep, I guide the bar back into the rack with a sense of accomplishment, turning to the burly man with a newfound confidence.
"Is there any benefit to lifting more than the minimum?" I inquire, wondering just how far I can push myself.
"Absolutely," he replies with a hint of a smile. "The more you can bench, the higher your ranking will be. It could mean better positions, more opportunities."
Encouraged by his words, I ask for more weight. We increase it to 120 kilograms, and although it's challenging, I manage to complete a rep. The burning desire to surpass my own expectations drives me to add another 20 kilograms, making it an even 140 kilograms. Inside, I'm conflicted; I know that among the Awakened, this weight is modest at best. If I'm to keep my true capabilities under wraps, there's a chance I might be overlooked for military enlistment. But the thrill of pushing past my limits is too tempting to ignore. With a deep breath and a renewed focus on my Mana Core, I lower the bar once more.
Every muscle in my body strains under the weight, but I channel the Mana into my chest, arms, and even my legs, pushing against the ground for added stability. With a roar, I press the bar upward, my arms locking out at the top. I've done it. I've surpassed my high school bench press record by a long shot, all thanks to Mana. Despite the triumph, I'm acutely aware that this feat, while impressive to the uninitiated, barely scratches the surface of what I'm truly capable of with Mana's aid.
The burly man nods with a hint of satisfaction, his eyes reflecting a quiet approval. "Good work, Carter. You've shown real strength today. Let's see how you do with the sprints and jog." His voice carries a certain gravitas, acknowledging the effort I've put in, yet still expecting more from me.
As I follow him to the next testing station, I can't help but feel a surge of pride. I've come so far in such a short amount of time, and now, I'm about to prove that I'm not just another Awakened—I'm a soldier in the making.